


She-Dragon

by ValDeCastille



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clubbing, F/M, Jon Snow is a Stark, Modern Westeros, No Plot/Plotless, POV Jon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, give it a try? it's hot, or so i like to believe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 07:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17762549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValDeCastille/pseuds/ValDeCastille
Summary: His eyes caught sight of her then, the perverse perpetrator who’d made his skin sting.





	She-Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, beautiful souls!!! How are ya doing this fine day/night? :)
> 
> Sooooooo, once more, I was listening to a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTs1RFjWidU) and an idea popped in my head. 
> 
> A tiny thing became _this_ and, well, I just hope you like it. I have a thing for clubs and posh people, apparently, so... yeah. 
> 
> This story could not have come to life without the invaluable help from Dino. Dino did not only betaed this baby but also helped me spice it up a bit, so THANK YOU, you!!! <3 *hugs tightly*
> 
> I also want to thank the people in this fandom who bear with my weird self and encourage me to keep writing. Big shout out to Alice, Iane, Shawn, Mim, Maria and Dino -again-. Love you all to bits!!! 
> 
> Ok so, enough words. Hope you enjoy a nice Wednesday smut!! *blows you all kisses*

****

 

_I knew it from the moment I saw you_

_From your moves, I was convinced_

_I knew that it wasn't love_

_But I wanted to feel you_

 

_Come closer, it’s better that way_

_We didn't come here to play around, no, no_

_We'll keep going until the sun rises_

_Finish, baby, 'cause I'm about to get it started_

 

The night was dark, haloed by the ever-waxing moon above the posh luxury of the club. Its atmosphere was heavy, sultry with a fog of smoke, sweet sweat, and compromising acts of a devilish nature; sex. The flickering lights of brilliant neon were the luminous incentive that drew the sinners in, one by one, consuming their every thought. The undoubtful opulence and power ignited the bodies within each and every corner of the crowded place, it suffocated the once fresh air and injected its seed into their every fibre of each living cell. It was with excess with which the mass played their wonderful ritual of lust and sin.

The club was hyped to an expensive amount per entrance; those present belonging to that one percent. The lot of people that threw their cash to the wind for it held no worth, their homes lavish and sweetened by stacks of flimsy paper. It was nothing to them, just a means to an end, and they were enlightened by this knowledge. They were the sons and daughters of Westeros’ elite, and the occasional visitors from across the Narrow Sea.

The puff of tobacco fogged the ceilings like thundering clouds overhead, the smell pungent and persistent; penetrating the delicate threading of intemperate clothing. Shapely bottles of the finest liquors were presented to the lascivious men and women at the peak of their youth by suited waiters.

Neon signs hung from the walls, one particularly calling his attention: _Do not, under any circumstance, allow your youth to escape your grasp without fucking the shit out of life._

He simpered smugly, taking the motto to heart.

All were dressed in accordance to the stifling aura of primal, carnal drive. Females wore tight dresses, fitting their shapely frame, and leaving little to be imagined in the way of their professionally sculpted casing of soft flesh.

They wore heels of painful heights, jewels that glistened like starlight, a flawless mask of tactful makeup and, their once impeccable hairstyles were now a dishevelled mess; all a show to boost one’s power. The men wore fitted suit jackets, silken shirts that displayed their heavily worked chests adorned with heavy chains of gold, tailored shoes on their feet, their hair wild.

It was desire, lust that leaked from enlarged pores. The heat licked ardent flesh with a wicked tongue, leaving behind a sweetened ecstasy that inflamed the heavy want within each beating chest. The heat was hardly noted, for its addictive nature prepared pliant bodies for the indulgent night ahead. If souls were ever to find themselves in such a place, they knew what they were after.

The music was harsh, numbing the ears, pounding at heaving chests and causing the lungs to hum with forceful vibration. It muffled the sound at the heart of the dance floor yet the lively chatter, echoing laughter, and cries of profound enjoyment could be found in its round. Other more _enthralling_ sounds permeated the scene, such as the hearty moans that escaped shapely lips; it was a feast of the senses and for the senses.

The mass of people craved to indulge in pleasures induced by the wanton night. A spar of playful tongues, and hands roaming the plane of delectable curvatures.

On stage, men and women danced to the beat-heavy rhythm of wayward tunes while stripping sweat-soaked garments from their warmed forms. The crowd went wild, applauding as a way of encouragement, wishing for them to continue.

His eyes roamed over the exquisite scene of contagious immorality, walking over to the crowded bar, ordering the heaviest whiskey the club had to offer. The bartender grinned with a glint of annoyance in his challenging eyes, questioning his tolerance for his choice of premium liquor. He smirked at the barkeep’s simple-minded divination, gaze playful, delighted in himself with their little staring contest. He prided the easiness with which he downed harsh liquors _, courtesy of his Stark blood,_ for he had a pallet for the divine; as the selection of women who shared his bed.

He was a cocky fellow, winning his little contest when he began to feel restless. A sharp little prickle under the layering of flesh. Those were eyes, staring at the back of his head, and he sensed them upon him, smirking.

The dark mass of his imperial, curly hair attracted everyone’s complete attention. All people, men and women alike. Wherever he went a crowd was sure to follow behind the perfect coil of his black hair.

In a world led by corruption and violence, he had carved his own way through life’s harshly built obstacle course, managing to stride boastfully out of the rubble, achieving a level of wealth that most could not fathom. But he was proud, and beneath his white shirt, a silver chain that linked the classic Stark wolf could be felt atop his beating heart. The wolf, a symbol of the long-lasting dynasty to which he belonged, that which he loved.

He enjoyed his life of incredible wealth and one-to-many lovers sharing his plush bed. So, much to his mother’s discord, marriage was out of the question. He preferred pleasure without the strings which bound two people in an inconvenient monogamous duo. And tonight he was ready to satiate the hunger that had begun to poke at his senses. He hadn’t indulged in the act of sex in a couple of weeks, and the pinned up stress was starting to get to him.

Sex was-- by far-- the best remedy for such atrocious ailment. He --in entirety-- was ready to swipe a playful minx off her feet and fuck her raw till morning came and turned to day.

He winked at the bartender, loving the blossoming rage that took a hold of his soul as he downed the whisky, and quickly asked for a second.

After following the entertaining refill of his drink, he turned to face the dance floor. The area was packed with beautiful women, all ready for the taking. The men too, handsome and bold, displayed their eagerness for the bed, though he had never been interested in men. But there was no harm in looking and _, who knows,_ life could end up taking you to unexpected places.

His eyes glued to the women that gyrated in a sensual manner, yet erratic they were in their movement but always gentle on the eyes like fine wine on the tongue. Their peaked nipples pressed beneath flimsy, twinkling dresses that could be removed quite easily with a gentle tug of one’s hand. The chill from the AC was a phantom, making itself known only by the pebbled flesh that began to crest over working bodies. Men took advantage of that fault, grinding their bodies against the firm, round flesh of a beautiful woman’s backside. They were an aggressive bunch; entwining thick, bulgy fingers between dampened strands of love-rustled hair, yanking the females close with a demanding hand on the back of their necks.

His eyes caught sight of her then, the perverse perpetrator who’d made his skin sting.

She was exquisite, if not the most exquisite creature he had ever come across. And he had come across many striking women in his life. Her hair was glistening frost, bathed under the shade-shifting lights dyeing it a million-and-one colours at the same time. Her pallid complexion gleamed under the beams of laser light that jumped from one wall to the other in half a millisecond. She wore a skin-tight, black dress that came down to the length of the second to last ridge on her fingertips, two see-through-thin spaghetti straps holding the divine weight of her cleavage with all the strength they harboured.

He could make out the round and enticing globes of her perfect bum every time the hem of her dress moved up with each curl of her sizable hips. Her breasts were two beautifully heavy domes of flesh, crowned with perky buds. She was magnificent and he could not help but observe the perfect creature, practically fucking her with his eyes.

He didn’t know her name, yet he did not wish to know that special endearment by which familiarity called to her. She; the wicked creature with her inky purple-plum lipstick that stained the mass of her perfectly meaty lips. They seemed soft to the touch, though the gloss would make a most appealing mess over the length of him.

Her doe eyes of deep lilac stood out from under the dark shading of matte pigment that had been neatly blended, and the harsh lines of eyeliner. _Vamp look_ , he knew it was called, and it fit the visage she was strutting through the pounding dance floor perfectly. _That’s what she was_ , he reckoned, a vampiress; a creature of darkness in search of a delectable human to feast on with the fine point of pearly white fangs.

The she-pire was more than tempting to the ferocious wolf, for if she was a vampire, he was a wolf, and in heat may he add; hunting for the warm press of another to satiate his always-growing hunger.

Under usual circumstances, wolves and vampires did not mix, but he was certain that tonight that did not matter in the slightest. Their bodies would end up colliding, one against the other. _Lore be damned_.  

His attention directed at the bar again, he demanded one more glass of ice-cooled whiskey, appreciating the languid heat of arousal spreading through his body, tempting his hunger all the more, and resolving to spend the night performing the most primitive and animalistic act all creatures carried out.

Pouring, the bartender grinned, a knowing look on his face that made him shift his attention towards the hint that filled amusement in the mixologist’s eyes.

With a turn of his head, he discovered, to his utter pleasure, the purple-eyed vampire just a few feet away.

His senses came alive at her approach. She was dangerous, accentuating the sway of her hips with each step she took towards him. The female paused only inches away, running one of her delicate fingers down his chest. Her hand took a hold of his chain, tugging at the coil of silver that hung from his neck, looking him in the eye. Her gaze was intense, electric, penetrating and he was sure that she could see right to his core and into his soul, filled with his darkest desires.

She sensed what he wanted, and she wanted the same.

Swiftly, delicate fingers played with the chain around his neck without saying a word, possibly sensing his wolfish nature and deciding-- just like him-- it did not matter.

He could feel the moderated twinges of electricity within his lower abdomen and the swelling from his crotch but all this stilled when the vampire suddenly tittered mischievously and returned to the dance floor, leaving him with an insatiable thirst.

Maybe she expected him to follow close behind but he was no dancer, so he stayed where he was to admire the sticky bodies and tangled hair from afar. The place was filled with the most magnificent specimens one could imagine; the diversity of skins, hair, eyes and shapes making the view most appealing.

But he no longer cared about anything but the platinum blonde who danced in front of him, dedicating him each and every one of her moves. He was alight and could only stay still, entranced.

It wasn’t until a man approached the _delicate_ dancer, hands claiming her body, that his anger ignited. His inner wolf wished to break free and rip the man’s head from his intrusive body for nobody was allowed to touch her anymore.

She turned to look at him mildly annoyed, eyes filled with a question only he knew the answer to; _You're not going to do anything?_ And though he wished to decapitate the intrusive onlooker he also wanted to see how far she would let the hands of another sweep her dangerous curves.

The man took a hold of her waist, attempting an intimate closeness that sealed their hips taut but the vampire forced the man’s hands away before he could and, with an extended index finger that swayed from side to side, she told him no. a singular grin shaped her lips like only vampires could; mischievous, devious, but equally alluring.

Laughing, she turned and challenged the wolf. Taunting him with a message, _I can have him if I want._

But she couldn’t. She had already set her eyes of deep violet on the wolf, and he wasn’t about to let her go as she could no longer be with any other but himself. Nobody could compare to him. He was tall, handsome, and he was aware that the traits of his Stark heritage were more than just _easy_ on the eyes. Furthermore, when a wolf chose its prey, there was no escaping its claws. She was damned.

The man with sticky hands brought both over the swell of her bum, pressing her body closer as to steal a kiss from her lips, but her sharp reflexes kicked in, avoiding the intruder’s sloppy kiss and turned to give the wolf a deathly glare; _When are you planning to come get me?_

The wolf could play this game all night.

The forward fellow appeared to have a short fuse as he grew fed up with the duo-centred game and walked away whilst the vampiress kept dancing, grinding her body against others, coaxing the wolf to claim her as his. And though males and females fought for her attention, touching her body and spoiling her attention-seeking hunger, she ended up rejecting all of them without effort.

He found all her moves and gestures memorised like the beat of his heart within his chest. He had imprinted them in his mind, never to be forgotten for she was perfect; the embodiment of lust.

Another man approached her, a little too familiar he was as he wrapped his arms around her body. He was brave for a common mortal, stepping too close to a ravenous vampire.

The silver woman’s eyes held mischief as she turned around and winked at the wolf, provoking a hunger, evoking in him a possessive, primal instinct that forced him to abandon his spot on the counter with the sole intention of finally claiming her. But he was cut short when the other man attempted to seal his lips with hers, a forceful press that was a big mistake from his part. The vampire pulled back, her stare lit with a fury he had never seen as she took the man’s face in her hands, prepared to break his neck, only stopping when catching the wolf’s eyes. _Don't_ , he commanded, _he's not worth it._

She begrudgingly left the dancefloor and walked towards him. A lopsided grin curving her lips.  She was a vision; her body engulfed by the flames in her eyes as they pierced deep and quick like a set of daggers. She exuded confidence and an egocentric demeanour he was certain he’d enjoy getting to know.

He had never met someone who could lure him as she was; he had given a command, yet it was her who possessed the power to choose, to break free of his order and apply her determination to her actions.

Taking her in with all of his senses, he prepared to receive her in his arms.

The vampress closed the distance between them, snaking her arms around his neck and planting her lips upon his in a searing kiss. It amused him that her feet stood on tiptoes despite the heels she wore.  

The world ceased to exist the moment their lips met.

She smelled of sour perspiration, of blood, of a depraved desire to fuck him. Her lips moved in a furious urgency, demanding his attention to focus solely on her, and he was willing to please her as he couldn’t fathom the thought of going against her desires. His hands firmly placed themselves on the curve her lower back and welcomed the high temperature of her skin.

Strengthening her grasp over the nape of his neck with sharp nails that dug into soft flesh, she was violent as she parted his lips with her skilful tongue. He welcomed her brutality in the depths of his mouth willingly, pressing her closer against the firm plane of him, her feet dangling over the smooth tile below as her legs came up to hook around his hips. Her small frame seemed to be perfectly sculpted to fit against his.

Their tongues sparred within the wet caverns of their warm mouths, learning to assimilate the other by the swap of fluids they carried on their tongues. Her body moulded to his; the rhythm of her heart --dancing beneath the swell of her tits that pressed against his built chest-- aroused him further. Her ring-adorned fingers were vexed as they entwined within the coil of his onyx curls, pulling the locks in desperation as she nipped at his lower lip. His hands travelled the length of her form, resting on her arse to squeeze the soft flesh, marking it as his.

The smouldering heat forming between their bodies was unbearable, and he could not recall a bout of heat as intense as the one that consumed them whole. His body almost ached as a cause of how good she felt within his arms. She was a sorceress. A vampire and a sorceress. There was no other explanation.

When the need to take a breath broke them apart he felt empty, finding no meaning in the world. Without her, he ached; the cruelty and malignity of mankind, suddenly felt all too real. But all thoughts of darkness disappeared as he kissed her once more, drowning them in her as he took in her scent and her heat.

The hardness in his trousers was evident and any timidness felt prior, if any at all, refused to make itself present as all sense of propriety had been long since tossed away. Her heavy-lidded gaze was swollen in lust, yet it bore a touch of arrogance which penetrated his dilated pupils just as strongly as her hands marked his skin, marking his soul. Her cheeks were an angry crimson and her breath was ragged, her chest heaving frantically.

Her centre exuded heat, dripped with a slicked sweetness, coating her inner thighs in the sticky gloss. The scent of her was sugary, subtle, but he could detect it easy enough, taking in the musky sweetness in large lungfuls. He felt a peak of pride as to evoke such a reaction within an enchanting creature such as herself; to make her lose her sense of reality and give in to his charms.

Her breath was ragged as she panted through parted lips, hands keeping a tight hold over the lavish fabric of his suit as if he would vanish the moment she allowed her hands to relax and let him wander out of her reach.

As it was, an abrupt and uncanny fear of losing her crawled out from the pit of his stomach, infecting his mind and spreading throughout his body. He questioned the nature of their encounter, uncertainty tainting the outcome he wished. He didn’t know her and frankly, was not interested in ever doing so, yet the fear remained. Perhaps they were crossing a line to the unknown, a threshold to the point of no return as their encounter was not meant to happen. There were a few things that felt odd about their affair that kept dark thoughts writhing, crawling from the most remote recesses of his mind to the consciousness he wanted to avoid.

However, darkness hastily dissipated into nothing as he shared her breath, assaulting her lips once more.

He noted the most mundane details about her person like the perfect consistency of the lipstick glued to her lips. While her appearance still gave the hints of a proper ravishing, it remained only slightly smudged. Her look was all the more appetizing, _expensive_ ; like everything else he appreciated.

The perfect prey.

Leaning over the counter with the weight of carnal desire in his arms and caring little if it bothered the bartenders, he found a certain pleasure in knowing that eyes were glued upon the pair of crazed fiends, observing as he devoured a creature beyond an ordinary man’s wildest dreams.

His lips, he placed upon the strong line of her neck, sucking vigorously until her skin was stamped to entirety with his love bites. Her melodic moans of pleasure parted the plump flesh of her lips every time his mouth made contact with her skin, her hands fisting his shirt anxiously. Their bodies were covered in a thin sheen of salty sweat, and glistened under the bright neon lights of the club; fuller, humidity becoming thicker with the number of people that pushed through the doors.

When he finished marking his territory, she untangled her legs, both feet touching their tips to the ground, her thumb wiping the stain of lipstick off his chin while gifting him a roguish glance. He grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles, the same look in his eyes as the one she’d given, desirous to prolong their encounter.

A silent agreement was pending in the air as he led her to the second floor where it was known that all sorts of _interesting_ things occurred.

He plopped down on a plush black couch, pulling the vampiress over his lap, his hands travelling down her body with wanton possession. As his hands sailed the waves of her body, her dress rose over the pretty lace of her black knickers, seeming to be a pair as they held the colour in likeness to the fine bodycon dress she wore. Whether she was an expensive whore or a sweet, innocent medical student he couldn’t tell, and in retrospect, he really couldn’t fucking care. Right now she was his randy little slag and she’d chosen him to spend her time with, though a temper he could see peeking through her eyes.

She was no submissive wife material if the thought to marry her ever crossed someone's mind. Whoever that fellow was he felt sorry for him, for he would make sure to leave such an everlasting impact on her --fucking her so raw and senseless tonight-- that forgetting him would be a hassle.

His ears buzzed with the powerful grunts and cries coming from pleasure-induced bodies. The sound of complete ecstasy bounced across the dark walls of the club along with the numbing vibration that the music provided, making it hard to breathe as it resonated within the canal of his ears.

He busied his large hands with delicate strokes to her toned thighs as she nibbled his earlobe. Her skin was softer than he’d presumed. Her luscious hair he caressed with playful fingers, taking the silky strands between thumb and index.

His mind wondered, conjuring up images of the soft patch of curls that hid behind the thin, black fabric of her underwear, causing a deep growl to escape his throat. He desired nothing else than to rip all the clothes that bound her like a gift wrap, as he grew fed up with the constant intromission of the fabric between his body and hers.

He kissed her once more, smirking through their kiss as he sensed her willingness to follow, her sharp teeth nipping at his bottom lip as she rocked her hips with lewd intent over his sizable bulge. A fire ignited within his body then, hot and molten like dragonfire as she molded her body to his; it was a dark desire that sparked, one reserved for specific occasions and purposes.

He seized motivation from that particular dark drive of fiery brimstone and --with frantic hands that he slid up and down her back-- encouraged soft moans to come out from his partner’s ‘O’ shaped lips. Her silver hair a mirror image to the hot mess of his dark coils. Her pebbled nipples seemed to dig grooves into his flesh as they brushed against his thorax, teasing him.

The woman of silver-gold worked the shiny black buttons of his shirt, unclasping the first few out of despair and need, revealing the scene of tattoos and strong muscles that hid beneath the expensive fabric. It was as if she was possessed, entranced, as she began to scrape her nails over firm muscle, biting his swollen lips, pulling his chest taut against her own and whimpering without shame.

With a low grunt, his hands abandoned the cradle of her back to focus on the swell of her breasts, cupping them, squeezing with a gentle force.

He didn’t know if it was the context or the sheer fact that such enthralling beauty walked the world, but his senses were more receptive than they have ever been, and the intensity of their caresses and kisses was beyond anything he had experienced before. Her touch stung, her scent was unbearable, yet it was so addictive to touch her skin, kiss her lips, and inhale her scent that it would drive him insane if he did otherwise.

He could no longer resist keeping his hands above her waistline pushing one hand over the soaked fabric at her centre, caressing her clothed groin. She hissed at the unexpected bolt of pleasure, a response to his touch as her hands found the strength to rip a few of his shirt’s buttons.

“ _Kessa,_ ” she uttered, breathless.

He inwardly cursed, taken aback by how beautiful her voice, the same as her body, and --right now-- it was taunting and playful, spurring him further to act on his thirst. He assumed she was a foreigner; Lysene, most likely, given the looks of her. He didn’t understand what she had said, but intuitively put more pressure over her fleshy button.

“You are so wet,” he husked in between gasps, nipping at her neck that was covered by a thin layer of sour perspiration. He wasn’t certain if she had heard him though, for the music and the voices seemed to have increased in volume. He had forgotten for a second they were inside the club, on a couch, surrounded by many; as he was momentarily immersed in only her touch.  

Her hands at work, mussing his curls, whimpering as only a mad woman would. She took hold of his bold hand, guiding his pleasure-filled motions over her folds.  

He could tell by the way she commanded him, the way she had seduced him, the way her lips pursed in a mocking grin, that she was strong and willful, _lethal_. And he was thoroughly enjoying it.

“What are you going to do about it?” She asked.

She shouldn't have.

He pulled at the lace of her knickers to the side, unveiling the curls of silky, platinum blonde pubic hair, and took enormous pleasure at the feel of the soft strands between his fingers. Loose curls of silver-gold as beautiful as every inch of her being; almost otherworldly. Promptly, he coated his finger in the musky sweetness of her natural lubricant, inserting his digit inside her dripping slit, and pushed as far as his knuckles would allow. The heat burning inside her tight walls was maddening, boiling.

“This,” he husked, searing a line of kisses down to her chest while her whimpers became loud and obnoxious, vulgarer in his ears. Her hands fisted his shirt; the wrinkles on it a confirmation of the pleasure he wrought upon her.

“ _Tolī,_ ” she demanded with a trembling voice that mirrored the shudders of her body, spasming under his touch.

“What?”

“More,” she simply translated, head falling back as she bit her lip to try and stop herself from yelling.

She moved to bite his neck whilst taking a hold of his thumb to guide the digit to her rosy peak, demanding maximum pleasure. He did so, rubbing the slicked nub as he inserted another finger, obliging her commands. Her cunt was tight and her fluids soaked through his hands in streams. A slimy, warm liquid, scented in her natural perfume that along with her high pitched moans encouraged him to push his fingers further. The sensation was all-consuming, rendering him incapable of forming coherent thoughts.

The feel of her mouth as she kissed over the thick veining that bulged with blood along the side of his neck made his cock grow thicker; throbbing and anxious to be set free. She suckled gently over the firm plane of sweaty flesh, his eyes rolling backwards at the utmost pleasure of her lips over his most sensitive point.

His inner wolf had no choice but to surrender to the sharp teeth hiding behind plump, soft flesh of rosy lips.  The sensation leaving him without the will to fight, and allowing its defences at her feet.

He was under her rule.  

Sharp, pearly white teeth punctured his skin, yet there was no pain. Rather, it elicited a jolt of exhilaration that exploded within him, arousing him further. It was the sweetest of stings.

She stopped her endeavour, kissing the bloody mark she had left behind, and wiped the smudge of blood that stained her lips. He should have been disgusted at the sight, but it didn’t bother him in the least. So he kissed her, savouring himself on her as he’d never done.

Then he nipped at her earlobe, inhaling her intoxicating scent, filling his lungs with it, making his blood boil as if the first time he had laid his hands on her while on the counter of the bar.

She soon grew tired of his fingers caressing the walls of her cunt, and took his hand to the cavern of her mouth, licking the long stem of it as his mouth salivated at the gesture. Her mesmerizing eyes of violet were now bathed in black, a mirror to his deep, dark eyes. Those globes of pure onyx beckoning him to lose his soul within their depths as her mouth kept sucking. She was wicked, he concluded, and he _loved_ it.

Her hands travelled to his zipper, fingers taking hold of it as she moved the slider down the row of metallic teeth, unclasping at the same time the top button to showcase the pair of briefs that hid beneath. She took his engorged length out through the brief’s enclosed gapping and sheathed his girth within her tight hold in one swift movement, without blinking an eye. She had moved so quickly that he wouldn’t have been able to say no even if he had wanted to -- _not that he had wanted to._

“I rather you do _this_ ,” she grunted into his ear.

Her nerve amused him. They were fucking in a crowded club, surrounded by sin and depravity, and she didn’t care at all. Rather, she seemed elated by that fact; guessing by the prankish looks she’d provide the people around them. She took pleasure in making other women and men jealous.

He had never been one to enjoy such public displays of any kind, yet at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. And as it turned out, he too relished in the way people gawked at them, envious of the enthralling diversions they were not taking part in.

Her fervent moans drew his attention back to the lithe vixen in his lap, her body curling as she drew her hips over the length of him, eliciting waves of pleasure that spread through his body and seeped into his bones, engulfing his senses in bliss. The constriction of her was euphoric; wet, hot, so perfect as she encased his hardness. With each roll of her hips, her walls clenched more tensely around his firm cock, pushing gasps and heavenly whimpers from her lips.

“You’re so big,” she said, her lips quirked to the side in a cheeky grin.

“You like it?” He smugly questioned.  

She could only nod in response while a string of gasps spilt from her mouth. She embraced him, arms locking behind his neck as she dipped her head under the line of his jaw, teeth nipping, tongue licking.  

He laid both hands over the voluptuous edge of her hips, digging his fingers into the flesh as he aided her unhurried movements, and forced his cock to the hilt each time he pushed in.

He devoured her, made her his. The prospect of _possibly_ seeing her again, suddenly popping in his head and lingering despite his protests.

She bit his shoulders, his neck, his jaw. Touched him with passion, roughly, yet gently at the same time, as if she was worshipping him, cherishing her time with him.

His pace quickened as she began to squirm, incapable of restraining her involuntary shudders as he held her against him. The whole act was messy, even foul to some extent, but he was sure it was one of the best fucks he had ever experienced.

“ _Adere_. Make me come,” she commanded and without haste, he obeyed her instruction. Pressing his fingers against the rose-red peak of her clit, Kissing her lips with a ferocious grind of his teeth over the film of plump flesh. Her tongue was bewitching, the slickened textured muscle giving his a fight, and he would never get enough of it, he was sure. He could picture that pink tongue within the bubble of his thoughts, licking him elsewhere, giving him a tiresome impatience for the next encounter already.

“ _Jon_ ,” she moaned throatily.

The mention of his name put the daydream to rest. He had to momentarily step down from his reverie, glancing her way somewhat befuddled. _She knew his name?_  He could not recall telling her this bit of information. He was sure. He--

She quickened their pace, kissing him thoroughly, erasing any consideration regarding the knowledge of his name with her tongue.

All he could gather was the weight of her body, and the slapping of her ass against his thighs as the music seemed to muffle as if it played far away, in another dimension. They were both sweaty and breathless, savouring their unity.   

“ _Fuck,_ ” she cried. “ _Jon, yes..._ ”

He didn’t give a fuck anymore if she knew his name. It belonged to her lips and he was glad she knew who she belonged to. He was entranced to hear it sputtering from her mouth in an incessant litany.

He felt he was nearing his highest point, building up like a powerful tornado with each of the collisions of her bum against him. He wanted her to reach her climax, too, alongside him in a cocky attempt to show her how good he was, so he rubbed her clit faster until she started emitting unruly hoarse sounds that resonated in the deepest corners of his mind and he knew she was about to come as well.

Shutting his eyes, he felt his orgasm overtake him as none had in his life, he was completely overridden by the sensations wrought upon him, his engorged cock throbbing, giving frantic spasms inside her fleshy cunt. Briefly, he lost awareness of his surroundings only holding on to reality as he felt her skin brushing against his.  

He wasn’t prone to come inside anyone, desiring not to sire offspring and avoid constant obnoxious lawsuits over paternity claims. However, without giving it a second thought, he climaxed inside her, warm, thick cum coating her insides, filling her full as her body sagged in exhaustion. She drowned in the high waves of pleasure, her limbs wobbly, jerky.

Not long after her body fell into his arms, catching her willingly, both displaying complacent smiles of contentment.

He allowed her time to recover from their quick yet powerful orgasm in the comfort of his embrace, enjoying the feel of her weight on him. Turning to look around he noted that no one seemed to mind them anymore, too occupied with their dancing, their snogging, their shagging.

“ _Bona iksin sȳz._ That was good,” she murmured seductively as Jon gruffly laughed. She cupped his face and hungrily kissed him, luring him like a siren did a lost sailor. The number of creatures Jon had imagined she could be were many more than he could handle.

Swiftly as she had conjoined their bodies in one, she drew him out of her, packing him away in his briefs, and zipping him to then pull her knickers back into place. She gave him another quick kiss as she stood up, pulling the bunched up material of her dress down, fixing it as if nothing had happened. He followed her example, buttoning his shirt and smoothing its wrinkled fabric --quite unsuccessfully.

Unhinged as he was --still trying to come down from the clouds of pleasure-- he suddenly feared never seeing her again, never being able to caress her body, never kissing the coquettish form of her lips, and never being able to drive her to the verge of insanity with his hands, his cock, his mouth.

Previous fears forgotten, he resolved that he would love to fuck her again and again and in many other places. Thus, he grabbed her hand and guided her downstairs, hoping to take her back to his flat and extend their encounter.

As they made their way through the crowd, her fingers entwined with his while her other hand combed through his dishevelled curls. She walked proudly next to him, pitying the girls that had lost him forever, he could tell. Her silent act of possession diverted him to no end.

Once outside, he voiced his will.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” It wasn’t a suggestion.  
  
But to his surprise, her answer was not one he had guessed or wished.

“I don’t think so,” she stated with a lacing of mockery in her voice.  

His blood boiled at her audacity, angered eyes assessed her menacingly. How she dared go against his wishes, he didn’t know. No one said no to Jon Stark.

However, before he could utter a word of complaint she turned to walk the other way, her heels clicking rhythmically over the pavement, her bum bouncing with each step.

His rage burned hot; he was furious, his thoughts to go after her only detained by the appearance of the valet boy with his car.

He hid his rage swiftly, always knowing how to put on a mask of false courtesy as he looked at the piece of paper she had inconspicuously slipped into his hand.

  
**_D. 786-342-56_ **

  
Not minding to respond to the boy’s greeting, realisation dawned on him as his eyes scanned over the ink on the page, noting the  “D” scribbled in its centre.

Silver hair, lilac eyes, Valyrian...

The woman he had just fucked was… _Of course_.

No vampire, no sorceress, no mermaid...

She was a dragon; a fierce and dangerous dragon, a rare creature, _a gorgeous beast._

The only one left. And she had known who he was from the beginning. 

It all made sense. The sole woman in the world who had ever dared to say no to him was a She-Dragon.

_And his family’s worst nightmare._

A devious smile crossed his face as he crumpled the paper with the strength of his fist and threw it to the side before climbing into his car. He had no need for it.

Winter was coming for Daenerys Targaryen.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo??? *is expectant* Did you like? Did you enjoy? 
> 
> Please do let me know!! I always love to read your opinion!! 
> 
> Thanks for stopping by!
> 
> Much love, Val. <3


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